3 Little Words...

"Copper Faced Jacks"

Just typing those three little words is turning my stomach yet again. There is puke on my new blue dress, a cigarette burn on my knee, unexplained cuts on my "décolletage" and I awoke with remnants of baby Guinness dried into my skin. Today has been a complete blur, never mind last night. Am debating (with little lucidity) the merits of texting back the randomer who procured my number in the Bleeding Horse. Merits are proving to be few so looks as though Paddy will not be the love of my life, or even date of the week.

Piecing together the night is proving difficult. Oh it all started off with such promise. Met the girls in Portabello for a lovely dinner in Seagrass, though the BYOB with no charge for corkage should have set the alarm bells ringing days ago. That, and the fact that I skipped off to dinner with 2 bottles of wine in the bag was bound lead to nothing but the drunkest of debaucheries.

Perhaps if I'd gone home post Bleeding Horse, when everybody else did,  instead of going to meet the brother and his mates in effin' Coppers (of all places) I might have come out of the night unscathed. I however, was very determined that at 1.30 am, the night was still young and I was only getting started. Coppers is quite simply a blur of double vodkas. I vaguely remember brother doling out some stern words and dirty looks to one of his mates who may have been trying to chat me up. I do not remember which mate but it's a nice little ego boost all the same. I barely remember leaving Coppers and have hazy memories of getting a taxi back to the lads house. The rest of the night is a mystery. I awoke on a couch in the wee small hours in desperate need of a puke but have no idea how I got there or how long I'd been comatose on said couch. Some kind soul had however put a blanket over me - one of the girls i suspect.

So today I am a shadow of my former self. Easter lunch out with the family was painful. I did OK to a point, largely because I was still drunk. But as the soberness set in it all just became that much more difficult. When I finally did make it home, there was nothing for it but to take to the bed for the afternoon.

Tomorrow will be a very different story altogether. There will be warm water with lemon to start the day, porridge, salads galore, yoga, running and a spot of 30 day shred. The time has come to call a halt to the food savaging I've been indulging in for the past 3 weeks and to return to Fatbook and my quest for the skinny.

As for my list ticking - it's been going ok. Apart from the PhD (surprise surprise) so tomorrow will also be a day of serious work on my part.

God, I just hope the hangover is gone by then. I couldn't handle another day of this. My brother, on the other hand, is, according to Facebook, on his way back to Coppers. Excuse me while I retch a little...